


The Awful No Good Very Bad Breakup Stories

by bipolarlilyevans (JackNSallyGal)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Female Character, Breakups, F/F, Lesbian Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 09:25:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8050963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackNSallyGal/pseuds/bipolarlilyevans
Summary: "Mary, I'm sorry. That sounds...""Horrifying is a good word."The course of true love for our fave slytherin and gryffindor pair





	The Awful No Good Very Bad Breakup Stories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skindyedblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skindyedblue/gifts).



> This is for Ali @braveremus for her birthday. I know you're like, Some friend you are! A breakup fic for her bday?? (Truue)
> 
> But try to find some humor in the stories and hang on for the fluffy end, okay?

When Emma Vanity makes dinner and sets out two plates, she casually wants to light herself on fire.  
  
In her defense it’s her first attempt at an actual, sit-down meal since the breakup. For an entire week after Mary packed up and left, she existed on protein bars and sheer misery.  
  
Tonight? She actually tried with baked chicken and vegetables.  
  
She hovers over the plate, torn between breaking the damn thing and letting it stay there. Just for tonight.  
  
She ends up spending most of her meal staring at the plate rather than eating, but it’s a start.

* * *

  
“Mary? Why are you crying?”  
  
“I’m not…crying,” Mary sniffles.  
  
“Oh, hon,” Lily breathes. “What happened?”  
  
“I ran into Emma.”  
  
Mary's perusing the shelves for the perfect snack, crunchy Cheetos vs puffy, when the bell above the door jingles lightly. She doesn’t pay attention the way most people wouldn’t so by the time they run into one another, Mary has her arms full of junk and Emma has her pack of cigarettes in hand, having paused in the process of paying to stare.  
  
The worst part isn’t running into each other with no warning two weeks after their breakup. It’s still pretty awful because Emma is still tall and built and even though she looks tired and grumpy and more than a little thrown off, there will always be something about her that draws Mary in.  
  
So, no, the worst part is not any of that or having to remember the end with the fighting and tears upon seeing Em.  
  
The worst part for Mary is being caught looking like a junk food hording, sad goblin…while wearing a hoodie that clearly belonged Emma at some point. There’s no mistaking it. It’s a rather ugly green, frayed at the sleeves and too long on Mary. As if that wasn’t enough, it also bears her ex's name in bold script on the back.  
  
“Hoo boy,” Lily bursts out when Mary explains later. “Oh no. What did you do?”  
  
“Prayed for the floor to swallow me up? What else could I do?”  
  
The floor doesn’t swallow her up. Mary’s still considering how much of a douche she’d be if she literally dropped the snacks and made a run for it, when Emma decides to speak.  
  
“This place is your turf. Sorry.”  
  
“It’s…fine,” Mary says slowly, as if it is fine in any way.  
  
And then Emma looks at her a little more closely and it is physically painful in a hilarious and wrong way, watching and noting the exact moment she comes out of her awkward stupor enough to really see the sweatshirt and take in the entire situation properly.  
  
“Um,” is all Emma manages, and Mary truly wants to die.  
  
“Yeah, it’s been…I’m just going to,” Mary gestures at the cashier and begins setting her items down to be scanned with as much dignity as she can muster.  
  
“Sure, of course. I’ll just…go.”  
  
“Mary, I’m sorry. That sounds…”  
  
“Horrifying is a good word,” Mary supplies with a dry laugh. “Listen, give me a month and I’ll be laughing about it over drinks.”  
  
“Not so funny tonight, though.”  
  
“No,” Mary agrees. “Not funny yet.”

* * *

  
Emma’s favorite part of the week, by far, are Sunday mornings. It’s the one day a week she allows herself to laze in bed until seven, waking up by blinking slowly at the sun coming in through the blinds until her stomach or the dog get her out of bed.  
  
Today, it's Lacy, the affable golden retriever, that did the job. Emma had been considering another twenty minutes or so of sleep when the dog padded over and leaped into bed with her. Emma had laughed, gently batting her away, only to swing her legs over the side of the bed, giving Lacy a thorough good morning cuddle in the process.  
  
Nothing quite like a dog breath wake up call to start the day.  
  
“Alright, girl. Ready for the park?”  
  
At the P word, Lacy had lost all pretense of dignity and began bounding around the room, vibrating with energy as Emma struggled to clip her leash. Human and dog followed their usual path around the city, keeping a brisk pace so Emma could at least pretend she’d gotten in some sort of exercise, making it easier to face her trainer the next day.  
  
When they reached the park, Emma set up a bowl with water for Lacy and after the dog bent her head and slurped for a minute, she unclipped her leash and began their ritual of tossing a grimy, old tennis ball to keep her occupied. There was never any worry about Lucy running off because she was trained and usually too enthralled with her ball to bother.  
  
Today, however, Emma had tossed the ball no more than a handful of times and Lacy darted away. Bypassing the ball completely, she gave a happy woof and took off at a full run that left Emma cursing and swearing in her wake.  
  
“Lace!? Come on, girl…”  
  
Emma sprints after the dog, praying she’ll stop before they run into someone and it either results in a lawsuit or demands for autographs. She would prefer the second option any day, but she also wants to enjoy her Sunday, and part of that is keeping as low a profile as possible so she can avoid fans and just be herself. Just for one day.  
  
She needn’t have worried because when Lacy abruptly stops it’s to let out another delighted woof before throwing herself at Mary, who laughs, full and loud and surprised and opens her arms out to hold their dog as much as possible given her excited wriggling.  
  
“Well, look at you, Lace. What a good girl. Yes, you are.”  
  
Emma stops several feet away, watching Mary and their dog, trying not to stare and ache over how good Mary looks. How sweet her laughter is and how bright the brunette’s expression is, until she catches sight of Emma and instantly becomes much more guarded.

“She’s a smart dog, huh?” Mary says, going for casual.  
  
“Sure. Nearly gave me a heart attack, though,” Emma admits.  
  
Mary drops a quick kiss on the dog’s head and gives her a lingering pat before guiding her over to Emma, who clips the leash.  
  
“I bet. It was good seeing her.”  
  
“Mary, maybe sometime…”  
  
Maybe you can come over and visit her. She’s as much yours as mine, right? That’s what we said. Maybe sometime…  
  
But she doesn’t finish the thought. Can’t.  
  
And Mary seems to get it.  
  
“Yeah, take care of her, Em,” she says, trying to sound bright, before walking quickly away.

* * *

  
“Mary!”  
  
“Tonks! Look at you, six years old and all grown up.”  
  
The girl beams at Mary’s words and then leans in to gesture at a table across the room.  
  
“Did you see my present table? Mom won’t let me near it. Says I’m a sneak like Sirius.”  
  
“I’d take that as a compliment, personally.”  
  
Tonks laughs, throwing herself on the couch next to Mary with too much force.  
  
“Hey, where’s Em? I was looking forward to seeing her.”  
  
Mary stares at the child next to her, going absolutely still. Two months on, she’s expecting it to be at least a little easier, and it is. She doesn’t need to cry in the bathroom over it or have an emergency phone call with one of her friends.  
  
But she also can’t muster the courage to tell the truth, which is its own failure.  
  
“Ahh, she couldn’t make it. But the present is from both of us.”  
  
“Does she wish me a happy birthday, too? She used to let me ride on her shoulders, remember?”  
  
“Yeah, of course. She’d be here if she could.”  
  
“Hey, kiddo, your mom’s looking for you,” Sirius announces, taking the spot next to Tonks on the couch, who sticks her tongue out at him.  
  
“Not a kiddo!”  
  
“Go on, then,” Sirius orders gently, patting her hip until she jumps off the couch and makes a run in the direction of her mother.  
  
Mary promptly steals the drink Sirius’ holding, taking a large gulp.  
  
“I hope this drink was meant for me, and if not, I’m sorry but I’m not giving it back.”  
  
“Nah, you need it more than me.”  
  
“Got that right.”  
  
Sirius throws an arm around her in commiseration.  
  
“I’ll be your very own bartender, pal.”

* * *

  
Between the two of them, people would look at Emma and assume, when it came to alcohol, she’d have the best tolerance in the world hands down. With her height and build? No contest.  
  
The exact opposite is true. Mary, who was small and curvaceous and so damn lighthearted and good can drink anyone under the table, Emma included.  
  
It is Emma’s complete lack of fortitude when it comes to alcohol that brings them back together in a roundabout way, so Emma will be forever grateful for it.  
  
Tonight it’s last call and she’s too drunk to navigate the streets or a cab, so she dials the one number her fingers remember and prays someone will pick up.  
  
“Em? Uh, is everything-“  
  
“Mary, I can’t get home,” Emma slurs, plodding outside with the rest of the crowd only to lean feebly against the wall. She struggles to get her leather jacket on, swearing a little under her breath at the effort.  
  
“You can’t…Are you drunk, Cap?”  
  
“Sure am,” Emma says loudly before lapsing into a pout. “Thought Prewett would help but she’s…told her to go, I think?”  
  
“Okay, where are you? Also, your teammates suck, by the way. Leaving you like-“  
  
“At Fosters.”  
  
Between attempting to light a cigarette and manage the phone, Emma accidentally fumbles the phone and drops the call in the process.  
  
“Shit. Fuck, damn it all,” she curses, shoving it into her pocket.  
  
Home.  
  
She can do this. She spends a few seconds blinking owlishly at the cross streets before picking a direction and going with it. Her steps are careful as she overcompensates for her drunkenness and she only honest to God stumbles once before righting herself and keeping on.  
  
“What are you…”  
  
Mary cocks her head, still in the process of zipping up her coat as Emma tries to navigate the steps up to her apartment.  
  
“What am I? This is…I’m…”  
  
“This is my building, Em.”  
  
“Ah,” Emma pauses, noting the different numbers and flowers outside, completely different from her place and feels heat rush to her cheeks. “I came here.”  
  
“Let me get a cab.”  
  
Mary bypasses the awkwardness so smoothly Emma could weep and successfully hails a cab. She gestures for Emma to follow her inside before rattling off her address with ease.  
  
The ride over is completely silent. Emma stares out the window, feeling the weight of her clusterfuck piercing through the pleasant glow of drunkenness. She’s so close to Mary, their bodies brushing in the back of the cab, she almost can’t breathe from it.  
  
Thankfully, the cab is slowing to a halt. She simultaneously wants to throw herself out of the cab and fumble for the fare but Mary brushes her hand away and hands the fare plus tip to the driver.  
  
“Thank you,” she says to the man while helping Emma out of the cab and toward her apartment.  
  
“Mary-“  
  
“Nope. We’re getting you inside. I’ll put Aspirin and water by your bed, and then you can sleep this off.”  
  
They ascend the stairs in silence, but once they’re in and Mary’s fumbling with the spare key while helping Emma support her own weight, she can’t help but add, “I’m sorry. I dialed and your number…ah, muscle memory.”  
  
Mary snorts at that and tugs Emma deeper into her own apartment. “Jacket and shoes off, okay?”  
  
“I’m glad it was you, though. I don’t have…reasons to see you, you know? I mean, I saw the Potter’s the other day-“  
  
“Which ones?”  
  
“Sirius and Lily. At the store. And I miss, well, you. All the time. I miss you and family. We were all, like, family.”  
  
“We were, weren’t we. Into bed, Cap. Come on.”  
  
Emma has enough presence of mind not to beg Mary to join her but it’s close.  
  
“Mary…”  
  
“Sleep, okay?”  
  
“Sleep,” Emma echoes.  
  
Blinks.  
  
When she opens her eyes again, Mary’s gone.

* * *

  
Despite what Mary assumes is the worst hangover in the world, Emma makes her appearance in faded running shorts with her headphones in promptly at six. She stops when she sees Mary and the other woman can’t help but smile a little as she holds out a coffee for her to take.  
  
“You look like hell.”  
  
“Feel like it,” Emma admits, accepting the coffee with a raised brow. “What’s this?”  
  
“I missed my dog. Thought I’d stop over, like you said.”  
  
Emma takes a sip and Mary can see her trying not to smile, at least a little.  
  
“The dog, huh? Think she misses you, too. Been unbearable to live with ever since…”  
  
Mary nods, ducking her head a little, suddenly shy and worried that she read this wrong until Emma sets the coffee cup on the ground and in one step, is in Mary’s space, bringing a hand up to lightly cup her jaw.  
  
“I missed you more than Lacy has.”  
  
Mary laughs and the tension is broken. She takes half a step and can rest her head against Emma’s chest, breathing a little raggedly.  
  
“Prove it.”  
  
When Emma kisses her, standing on the steps in front of everyone with their dog barking in the window, Mary can’t help but smile, feeling like she’s home for the first time in months.   

 


End file.
